You know, there are so many blogs in the world now, and for the most part, none of them actually matter. If you are reading this, I would like to congratulate you personally on your participation in this useless cultural phenomenon.
I'm not going to address the fact that I have published nothing on here in the last four months; if at some point I become vulnerable enough to address it, then we can let it happen, but for now...hello, how's it going, this is going to be a little rusty.
Also I just read it through and it's pretty lame.
Whatever.
Today is Thursday*. Exactly a week ago, I finished the school year, the one where I went to South Africa for one semester and then came back and stumbled about, disoriented, looking for meaning and depth and stability and sufficiently filling sources of nutrition for another. I also watched several of my lovely friends graduate, which has not mentally registered as a statement of, "Hey, I'm actually not coming back this year," yet, so that's all to come. I have a job, doing research again, but for now, termite behavior is a thing of the past, and let me tell you...what a stint of life experience that was. Also, I think I learned more about termite behavior when the flying termites (or ants...who cares) of South Africa decided it was mating season and made a mass break for all open windows.
And they say you learn things when you go abroad.
Anyway, right now I'm studying this flower or something, maybe some trees. It's a work in progress, or whatever. From what I can gather, ecologists do what they want, which, incidentally, is exactly what I do. So that works out nicely.
Today* I did not have work, for reasons that were explained to me yesterday, but are still unbeknownst to me. This is where our story begins.
I woke up this morning at 9:45, incredibly frazzled due to a dream that indirectly involved Disney putting out a movie that gave a new back story to Tangled by having her spawn from some form of bear-like turtle that emitted photons that were mistaken for flying lanterns. In retrospect, that actually does not sound that bad, as I love bears and turtles, and I guess photons are okay (and I hope I never have stronger feelings for photons than I do now), but (awkward) I find a lot of security in how strongly I identify with Rapunzel...? Is that weird? That's pretty weird. Especially considering that I don't have a crazy mother who has banished me to a woodland skyscraper, or magic hair that glows when I sing, but I will say there is a comparative list, which makes me the worst (or the best) person to watch Tangled with, and for now, we'll leave it at that.
ANYWAY. I woke up (that's all that the above paragraph intended to convey), and I checked my email, where I found a blurb concerning wedding details (SEE I AM NORMAL; PEOPLE ASK ME TO DO THINGS) (not get married; I am not engaged...this is how rumors get started) that included a bridesmaid dress with the instructions:
"Order this!" (phrased more gracefully)
Until this very moment*, when I was struck with a thought of genius, this posed a problem, but I just* fixed it, so no one can be stressed out about this story. The solution this morning* looked more like going to the mall, so this is where our story really begins.
This is the way I see department stores: if they're that big, then the thing you're looking for has to be there. If it's not, then...wait? What? No. It is. I don't know what you're saying. Thusly, my trip to Sears found me wandering from the online shopping kiosk to see if it would say that it was there (which it didn't...incidentally, that's not what it's designed to do) to the place where the dresses were, and then back to the kiosk, through the shoe aisle, and then to the dresses again. After about 30 minutes of this, I said to myself, "You know...maybe it isn't here. And maybe that's okay." I really don't think it was, and as I mentioned, the crisis has since been averted, so no one should care. I certainly don't. But I was at the mall, so I continued the conversation, saying, "Self, why don't we just take a stroll?"
I don't have a lot against malls. Really not anything. I just wanted to sound cryptic. The minute issue that arises at my mall is people from my high school who also shop at that mall, and that particular day, as I was just walking aimlessly by myself, I didn't want to propagate the seemingly overwhelming opinion of my ex-classmates that college has made me lame (which does not make sense; I have a nose ring). Occasionally, these should-be-casual interactions can be addressed with a casual wave, maybe a casual "Hi!" if someone is feeling extra friendly (casually), but I usually go by how they're feeling, and the vibe I almost always get is that no one I went to high school with who I haven't interacted with yet is usually very excited to see me, or will even let on that I am visible. Which is thoughtful, I guess, in its own respect.
I'm totally lying. It's way rude. I'm just above caps lock at this point, or else I'd express my thoughts more openly, and with more theoretical loudness.
Either way, it did not end up being an issue.
As is to be expected, after I began my solo stroll, I found myself walking [being lured] into Forever 21, where I stayed for a half a minute having a battle with the earlier addressed
"Self," who was reminding me profusely that I needed nothing inside. "But a shirt! I haven't bought shirts in a long time!"
"GET OUT, POOR PERSON."
(In context, that could have sounded very discriminatory, but I guess it's okay, because I said it to myself. Or my conscience is an insensitive monster.)
From there, I gazed out into the middle of the mall, which is actually something to consider, as my mall has a triangular center section with a Charlotte Russe (where teenage Lydia [because I am now so above her] used to spend her parents' money on "trendy" clothes) on top and a Zumiez on bottom (where my second-most-famous "Lydia Got Hit on by a Store Employee" story is set; only two of those are currently in existence), but on the backside of the top part (sorry if the geography is getting to you, or the parentheses) is a fragrance-y store (is it legal for me to say the name if I'm about to scoff at it? I'll be respectful. You know what I'm referring to), and of course, as it was the Thursday previous to Mothers' Day, I thought, "Well, I am a daughter with a duty, and she is a woman, and darn if we don't like crap that smells good."
...
I find it difficult to purchase things at such stores, because smell is so often the deciding factor, and after about five minutes within the walls of these stores, my sense of smell loses its olfactor (HA). I smelled all the lotions three times before I gave up, and all of them smelled indistinguishable. Or INSANE, like I was being attacked by a field of angry wildflowers. Or like my nose was on fire, but it felt kind of nice. I put one on, because, I mean, free lotion, and I will say that once I left the barrage of floral-fruity-fusion fragrances and smelled my hands, I learned that my decision to abandon that trajectory was a wise one. At the time, my primary reason for giving up was that candles are easier to stick your nose in, so maybe they'd be easier to discern.
I ended up buying two tiny candles for her, one that allegedly smelled like an alcoholic peach, and one that had cake and flowers and a poor attempt at mimicking hipster culture on the label. The label of the second ended up being more impressive than the smell itself, but I suppose that considering what I was up against, things could have been worse.
So I left the mall, etc. etc., it's Mother's Day and our house...still smells like meat, but meat infused with peaches.
Mission accomplished.
Tonight I said to my mother, "Mom, I'm sorry I didn't post anything about you on Facebook today." And of course her response was, "That's okay. I saw a lot of embarrassing pictures and was glad I was not one of them."
In an abrupt, sappy conclusion, I hope that in some exciting, or not exciting, or maybe even casual way, you were able to celebrate the mothers/motherly figures in your life/lives, whether or not you purchased or posted something. I am honored to celebrate the woman who raised me, her contagious interest in other people, her selfless love for her [substantially odd, abrasive, and often ridiculous] family, and her [apparently hereditary] capability to tell it like it is. Also, she is smart and lovely, and so dedicated to her bedtime that she will not see this until tomorrow.
I think all of these are noble qualities.
fin.
*As you can most likely tell, this post was written over the course of Thursday and today. Today, in a surprising deviation from the plot, is not Thursday. Today is Mothers' Day, so for reference, everything after our house smelling like meat happened today. All previous was about Thursday, although I think the hiatus technically happened somewhere in the middle of my purposeless rant about seeing old friends in the mall. This is not necessary information for the story to flow, as you can probably tell that it is not Thursday, and Mothers' Day would have had to happen before this all was published, but for the sake of clarity, here is a little snippet of explanation. Have a nice day.
